Love Hurts
by C.L. Lab
Summary: Damian Wayne is the son of Batman, a member of the Wayne and Al Ghul bloodlines, the current (and best) Robin, and a trained assassin. And he does not get "crushes". Period. No matter what Grayson would rather believe.


**So if you've read Batman Inc. #8, then you know the reason for my Damian feels. But I refuse to accept that issue as canon for numerous reasons that I cannot go into right now because then I rant, and this is not the place for that. So this is a teeny-tiny headcanon that popped into my head one day and grew into this monster of a plot, and I figured that now was the best time to have an awkward-gangly-teenage Damian love story, right?**

**Please review and tell me if you want me to continue this! **

**Disclaimer: If I owned Damian Wayne or DC Comics, things would be very very different. **

* * *

There were many things Damian found annoying. Brown still trying to take him to carnivals and the forsaken Chuckie Cheese (he was sixteen, although she seemed to be under the impression that he was an eternal ten year old). People touching his things and trying go into his room (although the rate of unwelcome visitors seemed to have dropped drastically after he set up the Damian's Deadly Traps of Doom-but only he called them that. In his head. Everyone else just referred to them as "dammit not again"). Todd threatening to kill his pets (although he knew he never would; Todd had a soft spot for children, women, and all members of the animal kingdom that could be considered "domestic" in the loosest of terms). But there was one thing he despised most: Grayson attempting to have this particular discussion.

"But Damiannn," Grayson wailed, dragging out the vowels just enough to sound like a prepubescent girl. "You're sixteen! There has to be at least one girl that's caught your eye! I mean, when _I_ was sixteen-"

"When you were sixteen you had already had relations with over half of Gotham's female population. And I'm still not exact on the male count yet," Damian interrupted, keeping his eyes focused fully on the computer screen in front of him and not on his brother who was dramatically draped across the back of the swivel chair, his chin millimeters from Damian's shoulder.

"Hey! I take offense to that," Grayson pouted. He paused. "So there's absolutely _no_ girl that's caught the eye of Damian Wayne yet?"

"Correct." Damian said shortly, scanning the files that popped up on the screen. It seemed as if a new gang had popped up in Gotham, consisting primarily of wealthy schoolboys trying to rebel that had been suckered into doing the dirty work of actual gang members.

"Well, you know that's fine. Not liking girls is fine. A lot of guys your age aren't attracted to girls, and it's perfectly normal to think about other guys like-" now Damian looked at his brother, his head swiveling so suddenly and Grayson's face so close that Grayson's eyes were borderline crossed.

"Grayson. I am not_ gay_," he snarled. "There is _no one_, female or male, that I am attracted to, and there never will be. So _drop it_," he ordered, his voice taking on a dangerous tone. But this only seemed to encourage Grayson more. He stood up, hands on his hips.

"But Damian, why are you so set against never experiencing the beauty of passionate love-"

"Get out!" Wayne's did not shriek. Especially Damian. Nor did they squeal. They gruffly ordered. And Damian gruffly ordered his older brother to somewhere far, far away before he strangled him.

"Alright, alright. I'll leave you to your brooding," Grayson leaned close to his ear. "But if you're looking for any particular websites, they're all block-"

"Now!" He could hear Grayson cackling as he ducked to avoid the paperweight Damian flung at his head.

* * *

"Thanks so much for the suit," the girl looked over her shoulder, admiring herself in the window, the dim moonlight outlining her figure.

"Don't mention it. Really. Stop. You've already thanked me no less than fifty times kiddo-there's a fine line between gratitude and guilt." The older woman in the slick black suit said, eyeing the younger girl. "Stop feeling guilty because someone gave you something nice,"

"But I don't-"the woman sighed, effectively cutting off the younger girl. The woman looked at her reflection, pulling the goggles down over her eyes before looking back at her. She leaned down slightly, cupping the girl's face in her gloved hands.

"Now, remember what I told you: be confident. This is Gotham, and they will smell fear and eat you alive. You're fresh, you're new. Don't stumble around like some sweet-faced pageant princess because I spent too much time on your suit to find your body crammed into some dumpster in Crime Alley. Got it?" the girl's expression hardened as she nodded. The woman smiled. "Good," she pulled up the girl's black hood, placing it over her hair. "See you around kid," she stood on the ledge of the roof, looking back over her shoulder. "And don't forget the most important rule of all: remember to have fun!" she called as she dived off into the night.

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**So what do you think: should I continue this? **

**Please review and tell me your opinion, good or bad! **

**Thank you so much for reading! **


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